


twenty three miles

by Foggy_Dayyy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short Story, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foggy_Dayyy/pseuds/Foggy_Dayyy
Summary: It’s been a while, you think as you rise out of bed with a determination you haven’t felt in months. Today is a good day.The car chirps mockingly as you unlock it, telling you everything you need to know before you wanted to know it.





	twenty three miles

**Author's Note:**

> alrighty folks real talk does anyone come here to read orginal short stories? no?? thanks for clicking anyways. 
> 
> I wrote this for a writing contest but didn’t make the due date and also wrote over the word limit :^/ 
> 
> ***Trigger warnings in the end notes***
> 
> I chose to put them there because it’s kind of a spoiler. Make sure to check them before you read if you need to, along with the non spoiler tags on the fic. stay safe.

Today is a good day, you tell yourself. You rise out of bed ten minutes before you have to leave. There’s only just enough time for you to throw on the cleanest looking dress clothes you have. Not much to chose from. Today is a good day.

There’s something new parked in your driveway, a replacement for what is now lost to speed and metal. It’s a beast of a car, an unwelcoming SUV that guzzles fuel like wine. But big is secure, you tell yourself. Big is slow, slow is careful, careful is safe. There’s an urge to chase that thought down, to think about your carbon footprint and the perks of owning and SUV instead of doing what you know you have to do. The key is unusually heavy and the teeth bite into the pads of your fingers as you clutch onto the cool metal like it’s the only thing keeping you from sliding off the planet. Really, what’s one more SUV?

The car chirps mockingly when you unlock it.

Your hands move without your consent, little devils in your palms forcing your fingers to slip off the handle of the massive vehicle as you attempt to open the door. _Not today,_ they scream, _you know what happened last time._

The pollen that had stuck to the car is now embedded in your hand, absorbing the sweat you’ve only just noticed.

Suddenly, intrusively, your thoughts go to the bike sat leaning against some corner of the garage.

That’ll do. You turn from the SUV and feel a cold relief replace your blood.

The garage is messier than usual. It hasn’t been that long, but you suppose she’s usually the one spending time in and consequently cleaning it. The bike is there, as always, sitting under an extension cord still connected to candy cane shaped lights. It’s June. Maybe it has been that long.

A collection of cobwebs have made their home in the space between the metal of the frame and spots of rust stain the spokes of the wheel. She bought this for you, years and years ago. Somehow it fell out of use. You suppose most bikes do.

Your hand moves to the crumbling foam grips to anchor it down as you climb on. There’s a moment of clumsy struggle as you position yourself on the bike, move the petals under your feet and get it facing the right way.

The second your feet mash down you turn your brain off. Focus on the mechanical churn of your legs, focus on the way your movements pull on the stitches in your side, focus on avoiding the imperfection in the road. Potholes that could send the rear tire over the handle and dots of spilled concrete, little mounds that stuck out of the ground like keloids. You’re twenty three miles away, and then you’re fifteen, and then you’re twelve, and then-

You focus on the strain in your legs and not the skid marks on the road that whispered, screamed, to no one but you. _Something happened here,_ they say, _something happened._ You focus on your raised heart rate and not the way the car felt following those tracks, set in those black lines like it was not the car that created them but the marks that had pulled you forward. You focus on the heat in your core and not the cold unfamiliarity of your home without her in it. You focus on your breathing and not how you so deeply, so strongly wish you had been hit from the other side.

Focus on the white paint lining the roads, the little figure of a man on bicycle not unlike you and keeping your tires between those two bold lines.

You park your bike at the side of the building, careful to put it out of plain view. It’s not exactly a crime ridden area, but better safe than sorry.

As you walk in the automatic doors slide open and blast a nice cold breeze on your flushed face.

“Oh! Look who’s here!” A voice beckons from behind a clean white countertop, breathing life into the sterile reception area, breathing life into your sterile head.

She treads carefully, walking all slow and careful as if stepping around your broken pieces. “You’re late,” she deadpans.

You clear your throat, feeling heat behind your eyes and numbness in your digits. “Yeah, sorry,” you start. “There was-“

“It’s okay,” she laughs quietly. “You’re not paid by the hour.”

There’s a pause as she makes an aborted move to touch you, an attempt that makes your chest ache with longing, with hurt. She covers it up awkwardly by grabbing at the styrofoam cup filled with cheap coffee you’ve drank so much of you already taste the watery bitterness hitting your tongue.

“Here.” She offers the cup to you. The foam creaks under tight fingers.

You take it, to make her happy if nothing else. You’re so certain it will freeze under your grip. “Thanks.”

Silence. The coffee tastes like ash.

“It’s good to have you back,” she whispers.

You breathe in steam, hot and wet and suffocating. Something bitter surges into your bloodstream as you reply flatly with a “Good to be back.”

Today is a good day. 

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings: past car accident, suicidal thoughts, past character death. ((please tell me if there’s something else I forgot.))
> 
> Thanks for reading! I’m gonna try to post a little more often than like twice a year lmao,,,, 
> 
> I’m open to constructive criticism!


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